


Until It Turns

by littlesnowpea



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Brencer is not happy here, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Ryden is not happy here, Soulmates, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:52:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesnowpea/pseuds/littlesnowpea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you're lucky enough to find your soulmate in this black and white world, don't blink. Everything you see in color could be snatched away at a moment's notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until It Turns

**Author's Note:**

> From an idea on tumblr: "what if your entire world was in black and white until you met your soulmate?" to which another person added "and if your soulmate dies, your world returns to black and white?"
> 
> Please heed the warnings listed in the fic. It contains verbal and emotional abuse and manipulation and major character death. If either could trigger you, please back away. 
> 
> This fic isn't happy at all. If you're looking for a happy ending run run rUN RUN. RUN FASTER. RUN.

When Brendon was little, his mother used to let him scramble onto her lap to hear her story-over and over and over again-of how she began to see color. He’d smile so bright and bounce around and declare that he couldn’t wait to find his soulmate. His mother would smile, press a kiss to his forehead and whisper: _“soon, my dear, soon.”_

His mother was right. It was soon. He has his guitar in its case, held in trembling hands as he follows Brent into his friend Spencer’s grandma’s garage. His heart is _pounding_ \- him? play music with a band?

He can barely stand still. 

It happens within two seconds, nothing like the slowed down eternity his mother described. Brendon walks in the door, looks at the two boys across the room, and the entire world snaps into color so fast it makes him dizzy. 

“Hi,” he stutters out, because he thinks it’s probably inappropriate for his first words to his band to be _“ohmygod soulmate!”_

Besides. There are two boys here. Two possibilities. This wasn’t something that had occurred even once in Brendon’s many daydreams. 

“Hi,” it’s the skinny one, with a disdainful look and hair covering most of his face. “I’m Ryan.”

“Spencer,” the other one, leaning on the wall next to the drums. Brendon’s fingers itch to try them out but he restrains himself with some difficulty. 

His mother says he has far too much energy for his own good. He’s working on that.

“I’m Brendon,” he offers, since it doesn’t seem like either of them are going to ask. “Thanks for having me.”

“Sure,” Spencer replies with a small smile. Brendon can’t help but return it. “We need a guitarist, so.”

“Let’s hear you play, then,” Ryan sighs. “C’mon, if you fit we need to practice.”

Brendon nods quickly, fumbling with his case until he’s pulling out his (beat up but still prized) electric. He plays a few chords, checking the tuning, then launches into what he’d been focusing on lately, Layla. 

He finishes on a slighty shakey note as it hits him again-he’s auditioning for a _band_. A band with his _soulmate_.

Nevermind that his soulmate is yet undiscovered. Brendon can see _color_ , so it’s really just a matter of asking the right questions. 

(His electric is purple. He didn’t know what purple was, before. He likes it.)

“Cool,” Brent says from behind him, Spencer nodding eagerly.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Ryan?”

Ryan cocks his head.

“Suppose you’re in,” he concedes and Brendon smiles so hard he’s afraid he’ll break something.

\--

“I didn’t want to say anything,” it’s Ryan, behind him. Brendon jumps and turns around, looking up at Ryan. The sun is bright in his eyes, he squints and follows Ryan as the other guitarist sits next to him on the curb. Brendon slides his case over to make room.

“About what?” Brendon asks, trying to keep the hopeful leap his heart makes out of his voice. He bites his lip against more words that want to come out, endless, pointless jabber that would scare any soulmate away. 

He hopes. Oh God, he hopes.

“When you came into the garage, you saw color, didn’t you,” Ryan finally asks, quickly. Brendon blinks and swallows hard.

“Yeah,” he admits, voice cracking. “Uh, um, did you-?”

Ryan’s lips break into a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, though Brendon’s more than willing to let that go to be able to be with his _soulmate_.

He will never get over that word. 

“I’d never seen color before you came in,” he confesses. “I’m sure you’re gorgeous in grey but you’re even more stunning in color.”

Brendon flushes hotly.

“I-really?” he asks, then immediately wants to slap himself for questioning his soulmate.

“Of course,” Ryan says, then laughs in joy. “I really have a soulmate! I always thought-well. If I could pick a soulmate, you’d be it.”

“Thank you,” Brendon says softly. His eyes water a little, but he blinks hard and it goes away. “I-I’m glad to have met you.”

Ryan smiles again.

“We’ll be great,” and Brendon has a fleeting moment of wondering whether Ryan means _them_ or the band, but ignores it. Of course he means them. Of course.

\--

Brendon feels ten tons of guilt weigh down on him. He stares down at the frets of his guitar (the wood is brown, the frets are silver, they’re beautiful) and chews his lip as he tries to ignore the argument happening in front of him.

He didn’t mean to sing along. It just happened, it happens sometimes, with lots of things, but this time- it was bad.

Practice came to a screeching halt, Spencer dropping his drumsticks with a loud staccato and Brent’s bass twanging unpleasantly. Brendon looked around uncertainly before he met Ryan’s eyes and flinched a little at the raw betrayal he saw.

“You write beautifully, Ryan, your lyrics are amazing, no one is questioning that,” Spencer argues. “But listen to Brendon, Ryan, his voice is huge, it’s what we need!”

“My band,” Ryan spits. “My lyrics. _My_ singing. Shut up, all of you, and go back to the beginning. Don’t back up, Brendon, just play your _goddamn_ part!”

“Ok,” Brendon whispers softly. “I’m sorry.”

Both Spencer and Ryan scoff at that, both with very different tones. 

Brendon hunches his shoulders. He didn’t mean to make Ryan angry, he’d never purposefully upset his own soulmate, he just likes to sing. That’s all.

His fingers find the first chords automatically and he begins to play again.

\--

“I thought you loved me,” Ryan spits at him as Brendon clicks the latch on his guitar case. “I thought you cared about me, I thought you were my soulmate.”

Brendon’s head snaps up.

“I do!” he argues. “Of course I do!”

“If you did, you wouldn’t try to show me up all the fucking time!” Ryan hisses. “For fuck’s sake, this is the fifth practice you’ve sung in. Why?”

“I just like-”

“You just like singing, I get it,” Ryan laughs. “Listen, I didn’t mean to yell. It just upsets me when you don’t think before you do things. Maybe think a little harder during practice and I wouldn’t have to get upset.”

Brendon nods quickly. He can do that. Sure.

“Ryan, what the hell?” Brendon jumps, nearly falls over, and he doesn’t even need to look at Ryan to know he’s rolling his eyes. Spencer huffs and Ryan laughs darkly.

“What the hell _what_ , Spencer?” he spits. “Were you in this conversation? Because I don’t remember saying your name. Is your name Brendon, now? If it is, this soulmate thing could have gone a different way.”

A muscle twitches in Spencer’s jaw and Brendon entertains thoughts of sinking right down through the floor.

“This is my conversation now,” Spencer hisses, eyes darkening. “Because Brendon is my friend and my bandmate and you can’t talk to him like that!”

“Are you the police or something?” Ryan asks, voice bordering on furious. “Because otherwise you don’t get to interfere with me and my soulmate.”

Spencer takes a deep breath and looks for all the world like he’s struggling to refrain from violence. 

“Yeah,” Spencer snaps. “Your soulmate. Hey, what color are Brendon’s eyes again?”

Ryan’s lips curl into a sneer. 

“That’s my business,” he snorts. “Brendon, come over later. I don’t want to see Spencer’s face anymore today.” He directs his order without even glancing at Brendon and stalks out, guitar case banging against his thigh. 

“They’re brown,” Brendon whispers into the silence Ryan leaves behind.

Behind him, Spencer sighs.

“I like your hair today,” he tells Brendon softly. “It’s nice.”

“Thank you,” Brendon smiles at Spencer, who returns it in full force.

His eyes sparkle and they are blue. So blue.

Brendon shuts his guitar case firmly.

\--

“So,” Ryan begins as they finish setting up for practice. “I got ahold of Pete Wentz-”

“What!” Brendon yelps, the closes his mouth quickly at Ryan’s sharp look. “Sorry.”

“As I was _saying_ ,” Ryan sneers. “I got ahold of Pete Wentz. We’ve been emailing and he’d like to hear us play. This Saturday. We can all do that, right?”

They all enthusiastically nod and Brendon’s heart is pounding.

Pete _Wentz_.

“Brendon,” Brendon snaps his head up to meet Ryan’s gaze. “Don’t sing. I mean it.”

Spencer sighs but Brendon is already nodding.

“I won’t!” Brendon promises, because he _won’t_. He won’t mess this up for Ryan, because Ryan put this band together himself and Ryan’s worked so hard.

He’ll do anything for Ryan. 

Pete Wentz!

\--

Brendon tries not to cry when they finish playing for Pete. He doesn’t look pleased, arms crossed and a frown on his face. 

“Guys, I’m really sorry,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair (it’s black, and shiny, Brendon finally understands what that word means) and looking at each of them in turn. “It’s good lyrically, really. And musically isn’t anything that can’t be fixed. There’s just....something missing vocally.”

“Vocally?” Ryan asks. Brendon knows that voice, has heard it several times in the past few months. It’s Ryan’s _pissed but covering it up_ voice. He usually uses it on Brendon when he can’t yell at him in public or in front of Spence and Brent.

“You’re a good singer,” Pete reassures Ryan, though Ryan’s face doesn’t change. “These songs just need a different type of voice. Bigger, maybe. More theater.”

“Thank you,” Spencer says, reaching to shake Pete’s hand. “Thank you for the chance.”

“It’s an honor, Mr. Wentz,” Brendon mumbles, copying Spencer numbly.

Ryan says nothing, just stands with one eyebrow cocked as Pete picks up his bag and walks out the door of the practice space.

Spencer rounds on Ryan.

“I _told_ you,” he spits. “I told you, Ryan! You didn’t listen!”

“Told me _what_ ,” Ryan rolls his eyes. “You didn’t say shit.”

“Brendon should be singing,” Spencer argues, and Ryan’s eyes flash in anger.

“No,” he hisses, getting right in Spencer’s face. “My fucking band, Spence!”

“This band will go nowhere with you singing, Ryan,” Spencer says quietly. “Your voice is too soft.”

“Then the band will go nowhere,” Ryan glares. “No one else is singing. Just me.”

Brendon looks at his laces and tries not to cry. 

\--

Brendon is sitting on Ryan’s bed, graduation cap resting on his lap, face still flushed with the excitement of _finally_ crossing the stage, _finally_ being done with high school. He’s dizzy and breathless with the potential his future has and he can’t stop smiling.

“I think we should get soulbonded,” Ryan says, effectively cutting off Brendon’s thrilled chatter about the idea of going to college for music. Brendon freezes, eyebrows knitting up because no one gets soulbonded this early. Not this young. It increases the potential for a broken bond which, Brendon knows from countless stories, is horribly painful and sad.

He doesn’t want to lose his soulmate. He doesn’t want to never see the world in all it’s color again.

“Why?” Brendon asks carefully. “Why don’t we wait?”

Ryan scoffs.

“Because I know you’re my soulmate _now_ ,” he says, slowly, like he’s speaking to a child. “And I don’t want to wait.”

“I do,” Brendon volunteers softly. “I don’t want a bond until later.”

Ryan narrows his eyes.

“Brendon,” he says, voice thin. “I thought we talked about this.”

“Talked about what,” Brendon whispers, though he knows perfectly well.

“You loving me,” Ryan continues. “And you keep reassuring me that you do, you do love me, you want me as your soulmate, but you don’t _show_ me!”

“I do!” Brendon argues weakly. He’s already feeling the guilt that’s so commonplace with Ryan fill his stomach. 

“But you won’t bond with me,” Ryan demands. “What, are you hoping another soulmate will come along?”

“No!” Brendon protests. “I just want-”

“It’s always what you want, Brendon!” Ryan shouts, clenching his hands into fists. “I always do what you want, I always make sure you’re happy, and I always get my wishes ignored!”

“Ryan-”

“If you actually loved me,” Ryan crosses his arms defiantly. “You’d say yes.”

“I do love you,” Brendon mumbles. “But-”

“Brendon, I do everything for you,” Ryan whispers. “I just want one thing. One.”

Brendon bites his lip hard as Ryan goes dead still and silent.

“O-ok,” he finally concedes, voice cracking horribly and dread filling him up. “I’ll bond with you.”

Ryan’s grin feels like freezing water in his lungs.

\--

“When’s the ceremony?” Spencer asks. His voice is so small and sad and Brendon thinks it matches what he himself is feeling exactly. 

“Don’t know,” Brendon replies, eyes locked on the sky. He’s lying on his back, one hand pillowed behind his head and the other plucking strand after strand of grass, mindless.

“You don’t sound happy,” Spencer whispers. Brendon can feel him looking at him, but stares determinedly upwards. He can’t look into Spencer’s face without dissolving into tears because this future he has in store for himself is terrifying. 

“I’m-” and just like that, Brendon’s scrunching up his eyes against tears, and Spencer is scrambling up and tugging Brendon into a tight, warm hug. Brendon chokes on a sob and hugs Spencer back, as tight as he possibly can. 

“Brendon,” Spencer murmurs. “Brendon, you don’t have to do this. Ryan has no right making you do this.”

“He’s my soulmate,” Brendon says numbly. “I only get the one, right?”

“Right,” Spencer replies, voice hollow. “Just one. But-”

“If this is what he wants,” Brendon bites his lip and squeezes Spencer. “I’ll do it. I always make him unhappy, I have to-”

“Brendon, you’re the most amazing person in the world,” Spencer murmurs. “You’re so brave. You’re incredible. You’re everything any soulmate could want and it’s not _fair_ -”

“ _Spencer_ ,” Brendon’s voice catches. “Spencer, I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Spencer asks. He sounds as empty as Brendon feels. Brendon squeezes his eyes shut.

“I can’t ruin my chance,” Brendon mumbles. “I have to make do with what I got. If I leave him, or he leaves me, I will never see color again.”

Spencer chokes on a sob of his own. 

“God, Brendon,” he whispers into Brendon’s shoulder. “It’s killing me.”

“I know,” Brendon replies, though he thinks that he and Spencer are on different pages. “I know.”

\--

Brendon hates hospitals. He hates the way they smell, he hates the rushed panic, he hates the cold monotone of everyone speaking.

He _hates_ them.

He reaches for Ryan’s hand but stops himself just in time-Ryan gave him another lecture on touching this morning, before they got the call- and just follows quickly behind, casting quick glances around the room. 

He almost crashes into Ryan as he stops outside the glass window overlooking the Intensive Care Unit. He stumbles back before turning to look through it, hands clenched so tight his knuckles go white. 

His heart sinks into his stomach as his eyes find Spencer, two beds from the window, surrounded by nurses and doctors. He chokes back a sob as the medical personnel rush around him, bites his lip as he realizes how quiet, how pale and still Spencer is in a hospital bed that seems much too big for him. 

He didn’t want to believe it, when they got the call from the hospital. He didn’t want to believe Spencer crashed his car, didn’t want to know his prognosis was dire. He followed Ryan numbly as they left the house, every part of him heavy and useless.

They were both in their ceremony tuxes. They were waiting for Spencer to arrive.

It doesn’t hit him until now-Spencer is in the _hospital_. Spencer flipped the car three times. Driving to see _them_ though he didn’t approve of the soulbond at all.

Spencer-

It seems funny to Brendon, now. It seems downright comical because now everything happens in slow motion. It seems to take a thousand years to Brendon as he watches the heart monitor slowly, slowly flatline. It feels like forever as the doctors freeze and step back, away from Spencer.

It’s a millennia as Brendon blinks, frowns, looks up at Ryan as his vision blurs over.

Every bit of Spencer’s death takes place in the same kind of dreamlike slowness his mother described when she told him about meeting her soulmate. Every second seems to take a year, every instant is an eternity.

But the moment Brendon blinks and looks to Ryan is instantaneous.

It only takes a heartbeat for Brendon’s vision to slide from color to grey again.

**Author's Note:**

> find me suffering at smalltalktorture.tumblr.com


End file.
